In Dreaming, Wake
by Jest'lyn Tal
Summary: Cole listens. He finds the hurts he can help and he eases them. It does not matter where they come from. Whether it's pain in the White Spire, Skyhold, or even in the distant places of the Fade, where the barriers between Thedas and other worlds is very, very thin. (Sequel to "In Her Dreams", background Thane/FemShep)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers: I own nothing of either Mass Effect or Dragon Age. And I'm not making any money off of this ;)

* * *

He was dying.

The realization of this filled him with frantic, almost primitive panic. It brought adrenaline coursing through his veins like debris in a flash flood, leaving sharp awareness and exposed nerves in its wake. There was no defense against it, no rallying of thought or rationality.

He. Was. Dying.

He struggled, trying to move before he'd even processed a reason to do so. Fight or flight - but he wasn't allowed to do either. It was as if his limbs were weighed down by sand, held motionless and unresponsive. The immobility was suffocating, oppressive, maddening.

Even more so since he couldn't breathe. Each attempt brought flares of sharp pain through his chest. Like trying to pull silk through broken glass, everything that should have flowed, caught and shredded. He worked his jaw, the intubation tube that was forced down his throat pressing against the sides, pushing, bloating, bruising.

"I can't believe Dr. Monroe said that to Vanessa!"

"Well, it'd been such a long shift. And she was out of line."

The voices were not far away. In the hallway, at the most. He tried to open his eyes and failed - the darkness behind his lids flared with red for his efforts, but did not go away. Marshalling his will to try again, he held his breath to focus.

He had to get their attention. Even if the nurses couldn't stop the pain, even if they couldn't help, they would try. They had to try.

A thin crescent of light in his vision – the white of the hospital ceiling above him, and then…

The breathing machine beside him hissed and forced air into lungs that could no longer process it.

Pain whited out the darkness.

Oh, he hadn't known it would hurt like this. Amonkira, be merciful…

"Are you done checking on Keprals?"

"Yeah, he's all set for the night. Circling the drain, but unconscious. Come on. Let's head to the cafeteria. I'm starving." The voices began to fade, the nurses walking away.

 _No. No, please._

… _Siha._

 _Oh, Siha… please, come. Please help me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

He was dying, trapped and immobile, blind and in horrific pain.

And he now was alone.

"But that's not true!" a tenor voice protested, clear and close by his ear. "It's not like that at all. Here, look!"

Light bloomed across his field of vision, banishing the darkness to the corners of his hospital room. Thane found himself, eyes open, blinking in confusion. He instinctively drew in a breath, trying to steady his thoughts, rein back the fear now that there was light. Now that he could see.

Agony was his reward, knotting his stomach and curling him inward. He barely felt the pressure of hand falling to his shoulder.

"Stop that!"

The words were said sharply, an admonition with accented vowels. Human. Thane raised his chin to see a young man standing over him. The boy had extended one pale hand to rest on his shoulder while he glared at someone or something across the room. There were other details, like the way the boy's face was shadowed by a large hat and the presence of bladed weapons sheathed at his back but…these facts ran through Thane's mind like water through fingers. He couldn't hold onto them.

Instead he focused on the moment. He should try to look. To see who the boy was glaring at. Before he force himself to do this though, the pain stopped.

Completely and totally.

The sudden absence of the sensation which had been dominating his entire world made him sit bolt upright, shuddering at the void left by the reversal.

Immediately the young man snatched his hand away, "I'm sorry! I could have done it slower but I thought this was better. Like ripping off a bandage, though… you aren't supposed to do that, really…"

"Did we notify his next of kin?" the voice carried in clearly from the hallway. Thane gripped the bed with his fingers as he turned his head to look, still prepared for movement to hurt.

"Yeah, ages ago. Apparently, he said that he didn't care, his father deserved everything that was coming to him and for us to stop calling."

Rose and Threnody, the two nurses who most often handled this ward on the night shift. The glass walls allowed him to see them easily enough and the open doorway allowed their words to travel, dig in hooks, and then pull tight.

He'd always known that he'd hurt his son. He simply hadn't been there. Not after Irikah was murdered, and to a degree not even before then. And, he'd accepted that failing. He had understood that his separation from Kolyat was entirely his fault, and took the loss as penance.

But, for some reason he thought that….he'd thought that it was different now. Thought that his son had been safe … that they'd talked … that it was… better between them. To hear that Kolyat had refused to come…

"It's a lie," the young man at his side spoke again. Pale blue eyes looked at Thane earnestly. "They are lying. This isn't what's really happening to you. They just picked up on the pain, pulled it close so they could taste it, and then blew on the embers. None of this is real."

"None of it except for you?" Thane asked, eyes narrowing to study the young man. His shoulders were too broad for how thin he was, and he was pale. Not enough food as a child, and still spending more nights than not going hungry even now. Little sunlight, too. Duct-rat? Perhaps a child he'd known, like Mouse, now older? But he knew the faces of all the children he'd employed and protected. This was young man was not one of them. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"I'm Cole," the man said promptly. "And you are Thane Krios. You are in your hospital bed. You were hurt saving someone's life. You didn't want them here, or you thought you didn't, but you really did. Very much so. And, so they are here. They are standing close. He is trying to hold on to the words that comfort him. He's sad, but he is also happy that he got to be with you. She is trying not to cry. He told her what your prayer meant. It doesn't make her feel better yet and…it's not working. She is already crying."

It was like puzzle pieces sliding into place, memories that Thane hadn't even realized were missing returning to him. The attack by Cerberus, the assassin after the Salarian councilor. That final sword thrust that he hadn't been able to dodge…

And between one blink and the next, they were there, just as Cole had said they were.

Kolyat. Standing by the bed, outlined in light from the window.

And Shepard, expression resolutely impassive but eyes haunted, hands curled into fists.

They were both silent. Both stilled but not lifeless.

"See?" Cole was suddenly, inexplicably, standing next to Kolyat as he gestured. "I heard you screaming and I came. You need to know that you weren't alone. You aren't."

"But," Thane said, eyes still on Shepard's face, on the tears spilling down her cheek, "I am dying."

"Yes," the agreement was matter-of-fact. "And afraid. Even though you think you shouldn't be. It's okay to be afraid, you know. It doesn't make you a coward. And, they love you. You won't hurt them with that. You couldn't now even if you tried."

No one was supposed to know that. Supposed to know how he'd subtly, gently encouraged Shepard to distance herself from him, to focus on the Reapers and her duties, and leave him behind so she wouldn't have to be a witness to any of this. It was the least he could do to try and spare her pain.

Kolyat had been different, however. Thane had effectively abandoned his child when he'd needed him most, and he could not bear to do that again. Instead, he settled for making sure that nothing he did, nothing he was going through, would upset his son. He hid is pain as much as possible, and buried his fears beneath a calming mask of reassurance. Again and again he promised Kolyat that he was fine.

It was alright.

He wasn't afraid.

He was ready.

He had no regrets.

…most of the time it was even true.

"I see why you love her. Why she loves you," Cole remarked, "You both want to protect those you care that. But it doesn't work like that. You can't make people not care to try and keep them safe. People aren't safe. Not like that. They aren't meant to be."

"It isn't quite that simple.…" Thane began, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He placed his feet on the floor, testing his steadiness before standing.

"It's just plain selfish," one of the nurses said abruptly, voice edged. Thane looked at her, surprised, and found hungry eyes, restless and all too bright, looking right back at him.

"Now she'll only remember this, remember you lying flat and helpless, useless and spent, on a hospital bed," the nurse continued, and the words slithering beneath his skin to burrow and squirm, "Weak. Pathetic. Not what you want her to think of when she thinks of you."

"You aren't a mage," Cole said quietly, "But you still glow. Blue and smooth, tamed but not, force without connection. They were curious. It made them want you. But don't worry. They can't come in."

"Why?"

"Because you'd have to invite them," Cole said, as if this should be obvious, "Though, I really don't think you should do that. No. Don't do that. I might not be able protect you from them, then. I'm only a bit here, the rest of me is sleeping. And, they are strong. Despair is always strong."

Despair. The boy, odd in both presence and appearance, guarding him. Thane catalogued these things, as well as the few implications he could draw from them. He nodded, eyes lingering on the threat lurking in the hallway. "Thank you, though that isn't what I meant." He raised a hand to gesture, "Why are you helping me?"

"Oh!" Cole perked up, "Because Shepard is my friend. Or she will be. Time is… odd in the Fade. Odder with you and her. If she's my friend and she loves you, then that makes you a friend, too, doesn't it? And, besides," his voice lost any tentativeness and became strong, certain, "you were hurting. I could help. That's what I do."

"The Fade," Thane repeated, turning the name over in his mouth. "The place for fading moments between life and death, I take it?"

"Yes! Or, rather, no. Not really. Kind of?" the young man seemed flustered and he shifted nervously, "You are unconscious. Dreaming. Don't worry though, it's just for a moment. Soon you'll see the sea and the other side of it. They won't be able to reach you there. You'll be safe."

Ah. That explained it. This was a dream. That meant that Kolyat and Shepard were only here as a part of his memory.

And his memory would, very shortly, cease functioning.

Thane stood, legs strong, head clear. There was no dizziness, no muddle about the edges of vision. All of the ways his body had betrayed him in the last few months seemed to have been undone.

It only took a step to bring him to Shepard. She was right there, rendered with all of attention to detail that his eidetic memory could give her. The light from the window made the tears on her cheeks shine. He reached out, fingertips ghosting along warm skin to trace them, before finally settling along the curve of her jawline.

Her teeth were gritted.

So careful with what she could show, and to whom. Even now.

"If all else whispers back into the tide, know this for fact…" Cole's voice was a reverent murmur, his accent all but absent as he mimicked Thane's intonation and cadence.

That was right. Shepherd knew. She knew that he loved her.

He'd made certain of it.

Thane lowered his hands, encircling those clenched fists gently. "Just remember, you are a fierce protector, Siha. But some things are out of even your control. Don't regret. Live. Find joy."

But she wasn't real. He had to remind himself that. For some reason it was …difficult. His brow furrowed and he looked over his shoulder to his son.

There were some things he'd told Kolyat, and some that he hadn't dared to. There were sentiments, liberties that he hadn't deserved. But, here and now, did it really matter if he took them? "I am… so proud of the man you've become," Thane started, almost hesitantly, "And I am so sorry…"

" _It's your fault! She's dead because of you!"_

The accusation, delivered in Kolyat's voice as a boy, whispered through the room. Thane remembered the look on his son's face when he'd said it. Remembered how shattered he'd been to realize Kolyat was absolutely right.

"He doesn't blame you anymore," Cole said from where he sat criss-cross on the bed. "He knows tha-"

Cole's jaw snapped shut mid-word and he scrambled to his feet, standing on the bed. His eyes fixed, filled with alarm, on the dark hallway.

Thane followed his gaze, hand dropping to the grip of his pistol in caution.

Beyond the glass walls, there was only darkness.

Emptiness.

Both nurses had retreated, one to each end of the hall. They lingered there, barely in sight. What he could make out of their forms were no longer as defined as it had been. There was blurring, the suggestion of misshapen and distorted features and limbs. No matter what they looked like now, though, expectation and anticipation radiated from them both like heat.

"Oh, no. No, no!" Cole twisted his hands together, backing up to the edge of the bed.

"Cole. What's wrong?"

"He's trying to rip it. He wants to bring them through. And they... they want to go!" the words tumbled from his mouth in a torrent.

And just as the last syllable left his lips, the hallway exploded into white light.

Thane instinctively shielded his eyes with one hand and drew his pistol with the other. A dull rushing sound thrummed and then pulsed out into the room. He felt it through the ground and in his bones as it passed through like a shock wave.

He reached out to pull Cole down, to bring him into some form of cover behind the bed. Thane's fingers tightened on nothing. He looked sharply and found Cole was already right beside him, shrinking back against the window.

And in the hallway, right through the door... the air was ripped in two, bleeding out light.

"Wait, he's there? Right there? I-I need to go, wake them up, warn them!" Cole straightened, fear transforming into urgency that overflowed in his voice.

And then he simply disappeared.

Thane had no time to linger on the apparent desertion. The nurses reacted almost immediately.

With unnatural howls, they rushed forward to the tear, the breach. They weren't bothering with their faces or forms anymore. Arms were placed backwards in their joints, faces were pale as porcelain, dripping with color and…. glee.

Vicious, victorious, glee.

The first bullet that Thane sent through the hallway glass shattered it, and then tumbled slightly off-course as its trajectory was altered. As a result it only winged the creature beyond. The next three that Thane fired were true, and each one hit center mass on that first of the nurses.

It reeled, falling back as black blood gushed. Turning to Thane in fury, it surged for the doorway. It's skin bubbled as it did so, expanding as its form grew outward.

Yes, Thane had gotten it's attention.

The other creature, however, hadn't hesitated in the slightest. In the scant second it took for Thane to get a bead on it, it was already flinging itself into the breach.

There was a flare of light, and it disappeared.

Immediately Thane's aim snapped back to the first creature just as it charged through the door. The pistol clacked three times in quick succession, as Thane leapt forward to place himself between the enemy and the memory of those he loved. The creature wailed, drunkenly twisting in on itself as it stopped its forward motion, receding slightly like the tide.

Thane placed a final bullet in its head.

It collapsed, melting in on itself.

Silence. For a moment, there was only the rush and whorl of the gash in space chewing up air and spitting out power.

Then unearthly cries from at least a dozen twisted throats echoed through the hallways.

Between one breath and the next, the hallway was filled with distorted forms. Rushing, clamoring, fighting, every one of them struggling to reach the breach and fling themselves in it.

Thane braced himself, prepared for the onslaught to head his way if it came to that. He had a limited amount of ammo, but he suspected his biotics would work just as well.

Patience.

Wait.

Not a single one of the creatures tried to cross the threshold into his room.

Whatever, whoever, was on the other side of that breach was apparently more vulnerable, more enticing prey than he was.

...People.

People that Cole had mentioned were sleeping.

Even as Cole, or part of him anyway, was apparently sleeping.

 _Despair is strong. Despair is always strong._

And by Thane's guess, at least twelve of those things had already gotten through.

He curled the fingers of his free hand into his palm and biotic energy flared. Bright and electric, it sent it's own vibration of power out into the room.

And as one, the twisted forms stopped in their tracks and turned to look at him. Blue light reflected in at least six pairs of gleaming eyes...

Thane smiled very faintly.

Then he moved.

Lunging forward, he crashed his way into the hoard. They swarmed over him, clawing, gnashing. Like rabid beasts, they lacked coordination or strategy, they just attacked and overwhelmed.

As a result, for a few moments, he was able to hold his ground. He dodged, quicksilver and precision, landing kicks and punches where, on a humanoid, they would do the most good.

But then claws caught his coat. They only sliced leather, but the pull threw off Thane's balance. Another strike connected, this one along his forearm, and blood flowed. Thane's eyes snapped from the tear in space, only a few yards away, to the hall doorway.

... He was finally beyond the glass walls.

The drell's guard dropped.

The creatures threw themselves forward to take advantage of the opening.

Then Thane's free hand, sheathed in blue, swept out in a broad gesture. Biotic energy exploded and sent the twisted creatures tumbling back, violently.

Thane didn't wait to see what damage was actually done. He pivoted and, his path now clear, dove into the breach and whatever awaited him on the other side.

* * *

Author's Notes: So this has been in my head since the day I finished chapter 2 of "In Her Dreams". I put it aside because I honestly wasn't sure how to follow through on it. I'm still not. I don't know if I can continue this particular story line when it's been so long since I've tried to get into Thane's headspace. Not sure I can do him justice again without replaying ME2 :P That said, a beautifully amazing story by Unseen Daydream called "Do Not Go Softly" (on A03) was so well done it inspired me to take this shot. I promise I'll try to continue this if the interest is there - but I can't promise I'll succeed. Let me know what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Standard Disclaimer: Getting this out a little quickly so I don't lose the thread of it. Standard disclaimers apply and, as this is unbetaed, all errors are mine and mine alone.

* * *

Thane found chaos.

He hit the ground, curving his shoulder to roll with the fall and then come up to his feet. There was sound, shouts and the ringing thunk of metal against flesh. But the transition from blinding white to darkness had left him ill-equipped to see any details.

He didn't need them. Not with several versions of the same horrific shriek sounding off to guide him.

Well-trained and confident, the master assassin was.

Careless, not so much.

Thane threw out his hand towards the howl that seemed to be the most on the fringes of the battle. Biotic energy rushed forward and tossed the source of the sound away from the group. A throw alone was unlikely to kill something, not unless the landscape beyond was particularly rough or dangerous. However, it bought Thane time to get his bearings and make sure that he was not attacking his allies.

He would need that time, given that he had no idea what his allies looked like.

Firelight, red shadows, tents. People in metal armor, elaborate clothing, using swords to defend themselves against hunched figures, floating in and out of reach. Lights streaking across the field…

The drell moved. To stay in one place was to become a very clear target and he'd wasted as much time as he could in inactivity. Starting to circle, he willed his vision to clarity, and it obeyed just in time for a sharp, pained shout to draw his attention.

Cole had named the things in Thane's dream as despair. And while the flying form covered in a ragged hood did not entirely resemble what Thane had seen in the Fade, he could draw the connection.

After all, it made the same sounds and it looked just as twisted.

Even without those things, however, he'd of been inclined to call it the enemy.

He felt it.

This particular one had its frost rimmed hands gathered as a man with a sword charged forward, trying to close the gap between them as quickly as possible. With only a few feet to spare, the creature swooped to the side and off the ground. It flung ice at the man as he passed, a spike aimed straight for the center of his back. It impacted against armor, shards flying, but the force of it sent the man reeling. The creature bobbed and circled the man around in the other direction, frost already forming for another strike.

Thane's mass effect field formed first. He warped it with unnatural resonances and then threw it at the creature. The divergence in the field would bite, tear, rend, and at least give the man a chance to recover if not actually do marked damage to the creature.

Thane might have done more, but he had to dive to the side to avoid a stream of ice and cold pouring out at him. The edge of it stole his breath and he twisted, raising his pistol to fire at the target.

Once, twice, three times… the ammo did have an effect, but it was like shooting at a krogan. The popping sound of gunfire drew shouts of surprise, but Thane ignored them for now. He needed to know exactly what it would take to bring one of these things down, so he knew which of his options would be best to kill the next one. When the creature finally fell to the ground, clearly struggling, he closed quickly. He swept in and kicked it sharply in the head, the angle designed to break vertebra. There was indeed a crunch, and the thing began to melt.

Five shots center mass, similar nervous system. Head shots might be more effective, though they'd need to be cautiously done with a creature that moved so fluidly and such dim light to go by…

Thane did not pause, even as he let those conclusions form and guide his next actions. There were too many of those creatures around, too much happening to slow down now.

And he reveled in that.

Since he was a child, he'd been trained to this. To exerting himself, extending himself, to the rush of power and precision of focus - all towards the almost primal goal of ending a life while retaining his own. Singular targets had long ago ceased to be a challenge. Even multiple targets had become less about testing his strength and stretching his tactics and more about simply moving forward to the solutions he already knew would work. Time with Shepard, after all, had given him quite a bit of opportunity to hone his craft.

But this? Even if they had been the same old targets, even if it hadn't been half of the challenge, it would have still been something he threw himself into whole heartedly.

…It'd been months since he'd been able to move like this.

He'd been forced to idleness, wasting away not only in body but also in will and spirit.

And now he wasn't.

He was nearly giddy with how easy it was now.

How easy to breathe.

How easy to move.

How easy to think.

A low thrum built in the air behind him, raising its pitch as it reverberated. It was a familiar sound, and he had no doubt it was coming from the tear. Something was changing, and he wasn't sure it was for the better.

There were only a couple shrieks left to rise in counterpoint, the current group of enemies nearly taken care of. Since it was entirely likely that the sound meant enemy reinforcements were on the way, Thane set himself to eliminating the last that were already here, as quickly as possible.

He whirled, and in the sickly writhing light he spotted a lean figure in a very big hat closing on one of creatures. Firelight caught twin blades as they moved in blindingly fast attacks, and the young man moved deftly in and out of the creature's defenses.

There was a moment of Deja vu, a recognition that wasn't entirely solid, but real none the less.

Cole.

Cole, who did not see the second creature, frost already glinting on its hands, darting towards him from behind.

Thane's angle was bad. Anything he threw would catch Cole as well. Shots fired could do the same – the enemy melted when dying, after all.

He was unconcerned. After all, he preferred to kill with his hands, anyway.

Thane rushed across the distance, determined and swift. Neither the creatures nor Cole appeared to see him, to notice his presence incoming. The flanking creature dipped once more towards the ground, within reach. It was a position that Thane's observations had already shown him would not last long.

He sprinted across the final steps, and then pivoted, using the momentum to power the kick that lashed out to strike the creature's side. The angle drove the thing towards the ground, diverting the line of its frost attack to skim by Cole rather than make contact. Thane didn't give any chance for it to recover; he closed and punched, twisted and struck.

The moment his fist touched the creature's flesh, Thane's knuckles flared in burning pain and then went abruptly numb.

He immediately moved to draw his pistol. The resulting action was not smooth, his grip guided by memory instead of sensation. But his fingers obeyed well enough for him to hold onto the weapon as he brought it to bear and pulled the trigger in the creature's face.

White splattered outward and a burgeoning shriek cut off abruptly. The creature began to melt in front of him.

Thane turned, ready to assist Cole had the young man not dispatched his own target yet.

He had just a moment to process the charge of electricity building along his skin and Cole's sudden shout.

"Wait, no, that is…!"

Thane instinctively dove for the side to avoid the anticipated attack, but such an action did little to evade a bolt of lightning. Every muscle in his body seized, and he was sent sprawling.

The Iron Bull charged across the field to take down the last of the demons, large axe raised high. The gore that covered him was, Inquisitor Lavellan trusted, not his. The battle had been hard fought, but it took more than a dozen or so demons to bring them down.

The Inquisitor herself took a step forward as well, even though that last bolt of lightning had taken most of her mana for the time being. This last demon wasn't a type known to her, and she was generally against taking chances.

"Wait!" With a billow of smoke, Cole appeared between the still twitching demon and Iron Bull. "He's a friend! Don't hurt him!"

"What?" Bull came up short.

The rift twisted its shape again, the crackling energy surging and gathering to expand outward. Unless the Inquisitor closed it now, there'd be another wave of demons to deal with. One problem at a time - Cole's mysterious spirit friend would have to wait. She extended her hand and push-pulled, drawing energy back to her like a tide receding.

The energy pooled, but did not reverse its flow.

"What's wrong?" the Inquisitor asked, turning to Solas.

"Nothing is wrong," Solas said with that quickened cadence he used when the situation got tense. "You cannot close the rift until all the spirits who came through it are dead."

The Inquisitor followed her fellow mage's line of sight back to Cole and the shadow now standing quietly behind him. She hadn't noticed the spirit standing up, and the fact that it now did so made it easier to take in some details about it.

Well. It was the first spirit she'd ever seen besides Cole to be wearing clothing in the real world. There was that. And, despite the lack of normal features and odd coloring, it seemed a fair assumption that it wouldn't be offended if it were called male.

"You can't!" Cole's eyes went wide. He turned around to look at the other spirit. "Friends shouldn't have to kill friends. That's not…not…right…"

The spirit seemed unmoved, dark eyes shifting first from Solas then to Iron Bull. There was a certain measure of calculation there - one that matched the deceptively easy posture the spirit held. The Inquisitor had seen enough of how Cole stood before a strike to know that, as idle as the spirit seemed, he was actually poised to move and move quickly.

"You need not worry about them killing me, Cole," he said, and his voice held reverberations not entirely unlike Envy's.

The similarity sent a chill down the Inquisitor's spine. Her memories of that time, trapped in her own mind, forced to watch good people die at the hands of a being that wore her face, still haunted her. She responded sharply, "Are you saying that we can't?"

The spirit raised its hand and turned it palm out to the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor stiffened, ready to brace for some sort of magic.

Then she realized that she could see the outline of the camp tents through the man's rapidly fading hand.

"I am saying that you won't need to."


	3. Chapter 3

There was silence for a long moment.

Hearts beat.

Blood flowed through veins.

And Thane Krios restrained the urge to panic.

He wasn't losing sensation or awareness. That would be too easy. That might even be a blessing. No, he was losing himself. It was draining out of him, sliding free with nothing to hold it, leaving exposed nerve in its wake.

 _Except that wasn't true._

 _Nothing was being left. Nothing, and the absence itself was…_

"What's happening?" The woman with the glowing mark on her hand asked, looking to the man with the oddly shaped ears and no hair.

 _Maybe it was more like a colony of insects…_

"He doesn't have the ability to remain fully manifested outside of the fade," the man spoke gravely, quietly. "It may be more kind to end his suffering now, before he becomes a wraith."

 _One by one, crawling onto the skin of your face. Initially, it was nothing…_

"I am, in fact, still here." Thane spoke, voice tight but even.

"I'm sorry," the man said, and he seemed sincere.

… _but as more and more ants came, and more and more seconds passed without being able to move, to touch, to itch, to dig his fingers in and claw…_

"No," Cole shook his head sharply, "Solas! You have to help him…"

The young man said more, Thane was certain. But that fact no longer concerned him.

There was less of him to be concerned.

"…no sea here…"

"Wait," the words were sharp, alarmed.

 _No sea._

 _Then how would he… how could he..?_

"Is that even possible?"

"Solas, please!"

Motion and the one called Solas stepping directly in front of him, gaze intent.

It might have taken less than a breath, or more than a lifetime. All Thane knew was that when the fire finally came, it consumed absolutely everything.


	4. Chapter 4

The creak of flexing metal and the light grind of wooden wheels on hard packed earth was it's own sort of music. A lullaby of travel, tempo set at the rounded footfalls of a steady horse and melody line provided by the wind in the nearby trees.

For the first time since she'd joined the Inquisition, Lavellan felt like she was at home.

For that alone, she would have been thankful to the stranger that had fought at their side the night before. After all, it was for his sake that they were returning to Skyhold at the pace of a wagon and not at their usual gallop. The man, for apparently that was what he was despite his odd form, hadn't regained consciousness yet, though Solas was at least fairly confident that he eventually would.

"Ready to finish this? Ben-Hassrath to A6," Iron Bull had tugged his horse back to where Solas was pacing the wagon.

"Knight takes Pawn at G7. Check," Solas returned smoothly. The Inquisitor was glad to see that the two had worked out their earlier differences. She liked Iron Bull and hearing Solas pick apart the pieces of him, of the Qun, that were difficult to accept, left her uneasy. To her immense relief, Bull's leaving the Qun had shifted that dynamic. The mage did not gloat, did not for a moment give any sense that he undervalued the difficulty of Bull's situation. But he did very quietly do his best to provide support and, as evident by this ongoing game between them, distraction.

"Uh-huh. King to D8."

She glanced sideways at her fellow elven mage. Solas' knowledge about the Fade and the Veil was unparalleled. Certainly no circle mage, keeper or cleric seemed to know half of what the man did. For all that, this situation with this person, this mortal spirit, seemed to be something he'd never encountered before. She had a sneaking suspicion that the novelty of that, the uniqueness of it, was part of the reason he'd jumped in so quickly to try and save the man.

It hadn't been the only reason, of course. If Cole's pleas hadn't been enough, the look on that man's face as he was twisted into something demonic would have likely done it for any of them. The mere memory of it sobered her immediately. Solas hadn't even had to ask her for her help. The moment he told her what to do, how to pull from the Fade and funnel the energy out, she'd done it without question. Her raw power, his skill in molding it, tying it to the man in a brightly lit whirl wind of green and white...

Lavellan's lips curved upward slightly and she looked back at the road.

They made a good team.

"Queen to F6, Check."

"And now my Ben-Hassrath takes your Queen." Iron Bull said smugly, "You've got no towers. You're down to a single Mage. Too bad you wasted your time moving that Pawn to… to… You sneaky son of a bitch."

Lavellan laughed softly, turning back to the path ahead of them. While it was unlikely they'd be attacked, it never hurt to keep an eye out. Four people with a wagon on this road shouldn't be too tempting a target, not this close to Skyhold. The air was already notably chill, a fact which had led her to donate both cloak and blanket to the still figure being rocked by the uneven road.

"Mage to F7. Checkmate." Solas gave the death blow with his usual grace.

"Nice game, mage."

"And you as well, Tal-Vashoth."

"Is there a way to save more spirits, Solas?" Cole broke the comfortable silence without warning. He'd been flanking the wagon on the opposite side of Solas, content to remain quiet as he listened. That was something that she hadn't thought of. If the anchor had served to tie this man's spirit to the world, preventing him from becoming a demon, then perhaps it could be used to help other spirits. Perhaps it could have been used to save Solas' friend, Wisdom. The Inquisitor pressed her lips together at that, still not sure how she'd felt about that situation.

"Not until the Veil is healed," Solas answered, "The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them."

"Pushing through makes you be yourself," Cole replied, nodding, "You can hold onto the you. Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being."

"Is that why he is like Cole?" Lavellan asked, pointing out the logical connection. "He pushed himself through?"

"In a way, yes," Solas agreed. He warmed to the topic, "Deliberately crossing the Veil requires that a spirit form will, personality. That concept of self gives a spirit the chance to maintain its nature. From what Cole says, this man is a spirit, but one that once had a body. A form. His sense of self is innate to him, unlike most spirits. It allowed him to cross. But to be corporal, to sustain himself, required more power than his mortal spirit alone could provide."

"Blue and green light, twisting like a school shoaling, fish in a swarm." Cole's tone was distant, admiring and awed. Then it became concrete once more, "Solas and the Inquisitor fixed it. You don't need to worry. It won't happen again."

She should have been used to it by now. That delay between hearing something Cole said, and then understanding what it meant.

This time it only took her a moment to realize what was implied by the "you" in that reassurance. She turned to look back at the wagon and found the man awake and propped up on one of his elbows. He was focused on Cole, though given their positions, Bull was well within his line of sight as well.

"I see you are awake," Solas had turned as well, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," the man said, inclining his head slightly in greeting. The reverberation that had so plucked at her nerves the night before seemed much milder in the light of day. "My name is Thane Krios. I don't know if Cole had an opportunity to share that."

"Cole's not so big on the straight answers," Iron Bull drawled. He was doing that thing again where his expression was friendly and pleasant, while his biceps oh-so-accidentally bulged.

"You asked what he is," Cole protested, "But I don't know what he is now. I only know what he was, with them and with her."

"I'm Ellana Lavellan," the Inquisitor provided, subtly steering the conversation away from a debate on Cole's lack of clarity. "That's Solas and Iron Bull. We're glad you are alright. We weren't entirely certain how to treat your injuries."

Thane's brow furrowed and his head cocked to the side. Apparently he expressed confusion the same way that they did. That was good.

"She means getting struck by lightning," Iron Bull provided with a smirk. "It's hell on your heart if you don't have a mage around to settle you down after."

Lavellan blushed and cleared her throat. "Yes, well…we'd never seen anyone who looks like you, and there were demons all around..." she trailed off guiltily.

"In the darkness, in the middle of battle, its not uncommon to mistake friend for foe. And, just as I am alien to you I must confess that, you are somewhat alien to me as well," the man was polite, and he moved cautiously as he sat the rest of the way up. His gaze settled once more on Iron Bull, a clear indication of what he meant.

"The Inquisitor and I are elves," Solas enlightened the man, "While the Iron Bull is a qunari. We are all rather typical of our races."

The man casually extended an arm, evaluative gaze now going to his own limb and the motion of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Bull shift his weight slightly. "And I'm a drell, typical of mine." He lowered his arm and looked keenly at Solas. "I was dying. Cole tells me that in that state, I began to dream. The creatures that attacked your camp were there and Cole kindly prevented them from causing me harm. When he disappeared, alarmed, and they appeared to follow, I thought to repay that kindness."

It was funny. While his tone had remained courteous, it gained an edge of demand to it. He was providing them information and he expected them to provide the same in return. She had no issues with doing so, but she did need just a little more context.

"Where are you from?" the Inquisitor asked, nodding her agreement to that unspoken request.

"A planet called Kahje," he said.

"Never heard of it," Bull returned dismissively. The name, the term, meant nothing to her as well.

Solas looked thoughtful again, though there was something sharp about his gaze. "The Fade is a place without distance or time. I'm unsurprised that we would not necessarily be familiar with your home. Though, it is curious. Normally there are correspondences, ephemeral as they might be, between places in our world and those in the Fade."

Cole shifted uneasily on his horse. "It was far," he said, "but not as far as some."

Lavellan had the feeling that Thane had somewhat expected this reaction. He certainly didn't look surprised at it, "I take it there is no going back?" he asked finally, evenly.

"I'm afraid not," Solas said.

It could not have been an easy thing to hear. Thane said nothing for a time, and the motion of the wagon gently rocked him back and forth in that stillness.

Lavellan found herself sympathizing. She'd been pulled from her home, cast into a world unlike her own, and given a place in events that still carried them all along like leaves on a raging river. But, she at least, knew she'd be able to go home again, could go home again, if she wished it.

This man had nothing of his people or his place now.

"Then," Thane spoke, expression blankly neutral, but shoulders subtly squared. "I have quite a few more questions for you, as I imagine you still do for me."

There were benefits to having a Ben Hassreth, a spirit of Compassion, and a keen eyed mage in her party. Lavellan had no doubts that by the time they got to Skyhold she'd know everything she needed to know about this man.

Including what to do with him.


End file.
